


Mistress of Devonshire

by ThoughtfulFangirl



Category: The Duchess (2008)
Genre: F/F, Rape, Sexual Coercion, not graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 04:55:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11593365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThoughtfulFangirl/pseuds/ThoughtfulFangirl
Summary: Bess struggles with her need for safety and hope to see her children again with her love and devotion to The Duchess.





	Mistress of Devonshire

With Georgiana gone for the day, lunch had been uncomfortable for Bess. The way William watched her, even made small talk, wasn’t of his usual manner. It raised the hairs on the back of her neck. He looked at her like he had that first night, when he’d asked her to dance.

After the meal, Bess had retreated back to Georgiana and her quarters. Relief washed over her as she closed the doors behind her. Safe.  
She made her way to a bookshelf and pulled a book out. She had hoped to walk the grounds for a bit, but she supposed a good novelette would be a good substitute.

She set the book down when she heard the door open. She turned and felt her breath catch as she saw William in the doorway, his eyes _set_ on her. Bess’s heart was suddenly in her throat, pounding hard. She didn’t want this man. Oh, he was plenty well enough to look at, but he was Georgiana’s husband—and truly it was Georgiana who held Bess’s affections. She knew the woman would never feel for her what she felt, but it was enough just to be close to her, loved by her… even as only a friend.

He was on her, pressing his lips against hers, his fingers undoing the ties of her dress. She felt frozen.

It was by his grace that she had a roof over her head.

It was by his grace that she was able to be close to Georgiana.

He was slipping the overdress off her shoulders.

Would he turn her out if she said no?  
Of course he would.  
Maybe not today, maybe not the next day, but he would. 

Where would she go then?

“Go to the bed.” The words weren’t forceful, but she sensed that was only because he didn’t believe she would refuse.

She felt hot as her pulse drummed fast and hard—not from anything like lust or pleasure. No, that was how she felt when she so briefly was Charles Grey.

No, this heat burned; this pulse hammered. She couldn’t refuse _the Duke of Devonshire._  
What was opening her legs to this man if refusing to do so would likely leave her doing it for others on the streets when the last of her money ran out?

Numbly, stiffly, she backed up. “Sir… I must be of pure demeanor if I hope to see my sons again, and…”

He stepped toward her, leaned down, and planted a kiss on her shoulder. It gave her gooseflesh. "What I wouldn’t give for the sound of young boys in my manner. Perhaps if your stay lasts long enough, we might invite them?”

He put a hand on her hip and nudged her toward the bed. “Go to the bed.” He repeated.

In a haze, Bess turned and made her way to the bed. She wasn’t an oblivious woman; she understood what had truly been said. If she gave him reason to keep her around, the duke, in all his power and influence, might reunite her with her children. No, she wouldn’t be a woman of the bed-house, but this would be his payment to her for acquiescing to him. Or rather, that might be her reward. The price was the roof over her head and food to fill her tummy.

And the chance to linger in Georgiana’s presence.

Georgiana was smart though; she would know. She would find out.

As William crawled over her and called in the price of her time here, she could only hope Georgiana would understand, that Georgiana’s love for her great friend might outweigh the insult of William’s affair.

Georgiana was a smart woman, with children of her own. Perhaps this might not ruin them. For her children, either way, Bess would endure, but as she tried to give herself over to the Duke’s attentions—tried to seem responsive and open to him instead of closed and begrudging—she could only dread the rift this path might rend between her and her dear, dear friend, the Duchess.


End file.
